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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426901">Flow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly'>popfly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied Relationships, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:28:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easier to work through creative roadblocks with each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Levy/Noah Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My creative energy flows better with Gray and TINN, as always.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air in the house is hot and sticky with humidity. All the windows are open but it’s not helping. There’s barely a breeze fluttering the leaves of the plants. Noah feels like he’s walking through soup as he makes another trip from the couch to the fridge. It’s only barely afternoon, but he wants a beer.</p>
<p>The cold of the can stings his hand, and then his forehead when he presses it there. He wanders slowly back to the couch and drops to the cushions, cracking the can open and taking a long drink. He looks over at the piano, the notebook he has still open on the music stand. There’s a half-finished song on the pages, but he can’t keep his focus.</p>
<p>When his phone rings, the familiar tones of a FaceTime call, he almost spills his beer in his eagerness to get it out of his pocket. Noah will take any distraction offered to him at this point, and when he sees who’s calling, he’s even happier to answer.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he breathes, when Dan’s face comes into focus.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Dan says. He’s sitting in his office, wearing a baseball cap and a tired smile, shadows under his eyes. He makes Noah’s chest hurt, and he takes another swallow of beer to try to drown the ache. The brief appearance of the Coors can in the frame makes one of Dan’s unkempt eyebrows arch. “One of those days?”</p>
<p>Noah nods. “You too?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Dan sighs, twisting his mouth. “I’m trying to write.”</p>
<p>“What a coincidence, me too.”</p>
<p>“Going about as well for you as it for me, then.”</p>
<p>The sardonic tone of Dan’s voice is oddly comforting, and Noah chuckles. “Don’t know what gave that away.”</p>
<p>“Guess I just know you pretty well,” Dan says, voice softer, eyes warm behind the lens of his glasses. They hold each other’s gazes for a beat, while their mouths curl slowly in mirror image grins.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Noah says, pushing up from the couch and keeping the phone aloft. “Want to write together? Maybe we can help get each other unstuck.”</p>
<p>Dan chews his lip, and Noah puts his phone next to his notebook on the music stand, swinging his legs over the bench so he can sit. He plunks out a few chords, and Dan’s head tilts sideways. “Okay,” he says, and Noah smiles.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you’re stuck on.” </p>
<p>As Dan talks, Noah drinks his beer and stares at his notebook, then down at the piano keys. A melody coalesces in his head, and he mimes the playing of it with his fingers, then reaches out for his notebook to write things down. Dan starts to wind down, and when Noah glances up at the screen Dan is staring off to the side, where Noah knows the windows are.</p>
<p>“Did you figure it out?” Noah asks. Dan does that sometimes, talking himself through his own problem. It always seems to help him, just having someone listen.</p>
<p>“Maybe. Let me think about it a little more. What are you stuck on?”</p>
<p>Noah ducks his chin, feeling suddenly shy. Works in progress are even more vulnerable than finished songs. But he picks out the melody he’s been working on, and when he peeks up at the screen again he can tell Dan is looking at his computer. He starts typing, keyboard clacking in between the notes Noah is playing. </p>
<p>“That’s lovely,” Dan says, when Noah has trailed off, and is scribbling in his notebook again. “Does it have lyrics?”</p>
<p>“Barely,” Noah says, and reaches out for his beer again. It’s tepid now, but he finishes it anyway.</p>
<p>“Play the whole thing for me. I think—” Dan presses his lips together, and Noah leans closer to the phone. He feels a surge of longing, to be there with Dan. And not only because he knows Dan’s house has very well-functioning central air. They’ve worked together like this before, just sharing space while they both write, or Dan working on scripts while Noah fiddles around on his guitar. Their creative energy always flowed better when they were together.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Noah says. Dan smiles, and Noah smiles helplessly back. Then he starts to play.</p>
<p>He sings the words he’s written, and hums the melody in the places he doesn’t have words for yet. He looks around at his plants, out the window at the trees that line his street, and occasionally at the screen of his phone. Dan alternates between typing furiously and propping his chin on his hand, watching Noah play. Noah adds a couple of flourishes, puts a little more feeling behind his voice, and smiles down at his fingers.</p>
<p>When he’s done he tucks his hands between his thighs, shifting on the bench. “Well?” He says. Dan’s turned fully to the phone now, pursed lips tucked into his cheek.</p>
<p>“I finished my scene.”</p>
<p>“Good, that’s good.”</p>
<p>“Play me another?”</p>
<p>Noah nods, and puts his fingers back on the keys. “Yeah, of course.” And he plays.</p>
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